


Rising From Ashes

by ladybugclub



Category: Ant-Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Ant-Man (2015) Spoilers, Ant-Man and the Wasp (2018), Ant-Man and the Wasp (2018) Mid-Credits Scene, Ashes Scene in Avengers: Infinity War Part 1, Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, F/M, HERE I AM, Post-Ant-Man (2015), Post-Ant-Man and the Wasp (2018), Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Yikes, but still, i wrote most of this late at night, searching for validation, this isn't great guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 16:33:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18742834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladybugclub/pseuds/ladybugclub
Summary: It was with renewed vigour andhopethat Hope charged at the portal, adrenaline rushing through her veins as she shrunk down and flew out onto an ashen battlefield where the skies were filled with more glowing gateways, and it was enough to make Hope realise the scale of what she was about to participate in.An Endgame summary from Hope's pov, really. Takes place between the Hulk snap (the unsnappening? The funky reverse snap thing??) that brought everyone back and the big fight scene with everyone in it.





	Rising From Ashes

**Author's Note:**

> Just so y'all know, I wrote most of this late at night instead of studying for exams.
> 
> Which is a mood, if you ask me.

Hope wasn’t totally sure of what was going on around her. All that she knew, all that she could _remember_ , was that one minute she, her dad and her mom had been preparing to pull Scott out of the Quantum Realm, and the next –

The next, her arm had started to turn to ash. She knew _that_ much.

But there again - she also knew that it _hadn’t_.

Hope could remember her own flesh, her own _parents_ , even, seemingly disintegrating before her eyes, and yet she could also remember that _not_ _happening_ _at_ _all_. It was almost as if there were two alternate realities playing out in her head and dancing around behind her eye sockets, weaving threads of confusion and doubt and _uncertainty_.

It was, to say the least, headache inducing.

But, fuck, there were bigger problems at hand. Like the fact that Luis’ van, the one containing their _Quantum_ _Tunnel_ and therefore _her boyfriend_ , had disappeared without a trace from the rooftop they were currently standing on.

Because apparently it was now possible for very large, very not-automated vehicles to vanish on their own from plain sight faster than the laws of physics would allow.

None of them were buying it.

Duh.

Because something wasn’t _right_. Hope could feel it. There had been a shift in the atmosphere, a change in the very particles that surrounded her, and it didn’t make _sense_.  

Hope – and, well, Hank and Janet, too – relied on facts and science, and they were kind of hard to obtain when her brain wouldn’t stop flickering back and forth between images of the molecular disintegration she either had or hadn’t gone through.

 _Because_ , she supposed, what if that –

What if that had actually happened?

Maybe Hope wasn’t losing her grip on reality after all.

Maybe the molecular stability of the universe had - for one tiny second – crumbled and collapsed in on itself, causing everyone’s cells to momentarily dissipate into nothingness. _Maybe_.

Although, as Hank had pointed out to her, that shouldn’t have been _possible_ in the first place.

“Hope. That’s not how atoms – that’s not how the universe _behaves_ , Hope.

“If for one, _just_ _one_ , nanosecond the atomic structure of our universe had become jeopardised, we wouldn’t be standing here now. The universe would have ceased to exist, Hope, because mass molecular redistribution on that scale would have resulted in time, reality and the physicality of everything you see now _imploding_.”

“I _know_ that, Dad.”

And she _did_ know all that. She was an expert in Quantum Mechanics, for god’s sake, and Hank’s condescension was most definitely _not_ helping her in figuring out what the hell had gone on.

Still, Hope wasn’t one to allow herself to be phased by the doubt of others (something she had already proven to Hank upon graduating from MIT _early_ , with no input or support from him whatsoever, thank you very much). Which is how she found herself pacing the length of the roof, gazing out over the San Francisco skyline while verbally sparring with her parents.

“Okay, so we’ve come to the conclusion that something weird _definitely_ happened, right?” It was like Scott said – _if you want to do something right, you make a list_. And right now, the first thing that Hope could think of was the fact that all three of them knew that something was amiss; whether that something was scientific or not they weren’t so sure, but, _hey_ , it was a _start_.

“Right.”

“So the next thing we know is that both Scott and the Quantum Tunnel have disappeared. Any ideas?”

“What we _do_ know that it’s damn impossible for any of this to have happened, Hope.” Her dad’s reply was sharp and curt, tinged with just the teeniest bits of panic and _accusation_.

Unbelievable wasn’t often a word that sprung to mind when trying to describe such situations (Hope knew better than to apply the phrase to anything when almost _everything_ was possible), but at that moment it was the only thing Hope could think of. Her vision was beginning to blur at the edges, and yet the only goddamn thing her brain could do was chant _unbelievable unbelievable unbelievable_ over and over again.

Hope had to force herself to breathe forcefully out through her nose, one, two, three times, before she could bite back, her nostrils flaring with each deep exhalation.

“So, what? You’re saying that _Scott_ did this? That he took the van?”

“No! Well. I don’t _know_! Look, Hope, I just – I wouldn’t put it _past_ him, that’s all. I mean, look at Germany, Hope, look at what he –“

 _Germany_. The word alone was enough to make Hope grit her teeth in frustration, because _really_? Hadn’t they gotten over this? Scott had done more than enough to prove his worth to the family in the past three months, and, yeah, maybe Hope hadn’t quite forgiven him for going off with Captain America and forcing her and Hank underground, but she damn-well knew Scott wouldn’t do anything like that again.

Not without Hope, anyway.

She turned on her heel and pivoted towards her mom, kicking up dust and gravel into a grey cloud that blended in almost seamlessly with the steel sky around them. Hope’s hands were clasped together, a silent plea to her mom to _please_ , _please_ _make_ _Dad_ _see_ _reason_.

Because Janet was good at that. Even after thirty years, she was a balm to Hank’s outrage and witticisms, always knowing exactly how best to rationale with him, how to bring him back down to earth and calm him with just a simple touch to his forearm or with one small, meaningful stare. Janet understood Hank better than anyone else, and Hope had no idea how they had survived all those years without her.

But right now, Janet’s arms were folded against her chest, with one arm raised towards her face and with her chin resting in the palm of her hand, while thin, nimble fingers drummed slowly against her left cheek. Her movements, unhurried and deliberate, were _graceful_ , serving as a harsh reminder of the reality she had faced for three decades while stuck in the Quantum Realm.

Of course, Janet had _always_ been elegant. Hope could recall a thousand memories of her mom getting ready for work, for nights out and for parties, always with the same levels of confidence and ease as she would carefully sit down at her vanity and toy with pearl earrings or silver pendants, and as she would carefully lean in closer to the speckled mirror when applying mascara or lipstick or blusher.

But Hope also knew that her mom’s movements also used to be a lot more rushed and electric, that there was always somewhere else that Janet wanted to be and something else that her mind would be focusing on – a Quantum equation to be solved, perhaps, or whatever improvements she could make to her Wasp suit based on the outcome of her last mission.

Now, though, Janet could easily be still for hours, hands clasped around the cool porcelain of a coffee mug that had long since gone cold, as she sat at their kitchen table, staring out into the unknown but still faintly _buzzing_ with some kind of energy that Hope couldn’t _quite_ visualise.

It still took some getting used to, seeing her mom like this.

“Jellybean,” Janet’s voice broke Hope from her reverie, because _oh_ _god_ she sounded _soft_ and _sad_ and _gentle_ , and Hope wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to find out why.

Janet took a step forwards towards her, and _oh_ _god_ something was _definitely_ wrong. Hope could practically taste the bad news in the air, metallic and bitter, and the sky had darkened in some weak attempt at pathetic fallacy, the storm clouds lining the eastern horizon threatening to roll overhead and cast the world in shadow.

Her mom took a breath, and reached out to place her hands on Hope’s shoulders.

“Jellybean, I think we’ve been gone for a long time.”

When Hope would later recall those words, she wouldn’t know _how_ she knew that they were true. But in that moment, all she could do was blink at her mom as her own breaths hitched in her throat, the weight of the sentence pushing down in her mind and inciting panic and dread and _nausea_ to rise in place of the cool and collected disposition she had _just_ managed to cling onto until that point.

She was only vaguely aware of her mom leaning forwards and wrapping her arms around her, of her pulling Hope in _closer_ to her body and _hugging_ her tightly.

Hank’s exclamations of “ _Janet? What the hell do you mean? Janet?_ ” seemed like they were worlds away, the sound of his voice drowned out by the rushing of blood in Hope’s ears and the soft _thumping_ that seemed to have taken residence in her head.

 _A long time_.

Just exactly how long was _a_ _long_ _time_?

And, _fuck_ , what had happened to Scott while they had been gone?

What had happened to the _world_?

Typically, Hope wasn’t the type of person to freak out over anything. When Scott had spontaneously decided to become a renegade Avenger, she poured all of her energy and effort into Quantum Research, focusing only on finding her mom. She had trained every day, too, because she relished being the Wasp, and because hitting a punching bag had become cathartic, _therapeutic_ , almost, to her. Hope compartmentalised things; she collected grudges and obsessed over science until her brain put itself at ease, and she worked logically at problems until they could be understood. She didn’t freak out.

But right now, she was dangerously close to doing so – and that was a generous observation, she reckoned, because her behaviour so far could almost definitely be classed as a freak out.

So Hope disentangled herself from her mom’s arms and straightened out - _Scott called that her Business Bitch Stance_ – in an effort to regain some control, though over what she didn’t know. But she had to think rationally now, because they were no closer to figuring out what had happened, and all three of them _hated_ not knowing anything.

If this were a scientific endeavour, one where the outcome was known but the initial reaction wasn’t, Hope would be looking at causation, right? She would be repeating the investigation, maintaining variables and experimenting until she obtained the desired results.

And, okay, maybe she couldn’t recreate whatever had happened to them, but she _could_ analyse the past, outline anomalies in the days leading up to their molecular disintegration and maybe draw a conclusion from those findings to –

Oh.

 _Oh_.

God, they were all so _stupid_.

Hope rounded on her parents, her ponytail catching in the wind and trailing out behind her. Her cheeks were reddening as a blush tried to make its way up her face, and her eyes had widened in disbelief at the fact that they _hadn’t_ _thought_ _of_ _it_ _before_.

“Mom, Dad – do you think that spaceship in New York had anything to do with this?”

Her question was met with two identical expressions of bewilderment and _doubt_ , which was, _ugh_ , frustrating as _hell_ to Hope because her theory was the _only_ explanation they had so far, _goddammit_.

“ _Jellybean_ – “

“You’re right.”

The rooftop was suddenly illuminated by a hazy orange glow, a stark contrast to the stormy grey backdrop that pressed down over the city. If Hope hadn’t been so focused on the unexpected intrusion, she would have been almost relieved. San Francisco was _meant_ to be colourful, and she hadn’t noticed until that moment _just_ how bleak and monochromatic it currently was.

But no, her eyes were instead trained on the figure that had stepped out before them, his hands trembling slightly as he moved his fingers around in concentric circles to presumedly keep the orange thing ( _portal? Oh god, it was a portal, wasn’t it?_ ) behind him from closing in on itself.

If she was being honest, Hope had seen enough weird shit for one day.

“Hope van Dyne, I need you to come with me.”

Hope van Dyne. _Hope van Dyne_.

Admittedly, she exchanged a confused glance with her parents at that. So a freaking party magician knew her name, huh?

A beat went by before anyone actually properly moved, the three of them too stunned to do anything but stare. Hank, inevitably, was the first to speak up.

“I’m sorry, but who the actual hell are you?”

The wizard – or whatever he was – seemed to sigh at that, and it hit Hope then just how _tired_ he looked.

“Look, I’m a good guy, alright? I’m Doctor Stephen Strange, so you can all relax and, uh, call off your ants.”

Hope had to blink several times before her eyes focused on the red of the fire ants that were lining the edge of the building, poised and awaiting command from Hank who must have discreetly slipped on his earpiece when Hope wasn’t looking.

She inwardly berated herself for not noticing – she needed her reflexes to be sharp and quick at all times, and that meant that her observational skills had to be near on _perfect_. Especially if they were going to have to put up with this guy for any longer.

“You know, that doesn’t exactly tell us who you are.” This time it was Janet who had spoken, her voice much less hostile than her husband’s had been. She was the mediator of the group, Hope realised, the one who would watch events transpire with a critical eye but would always step in with a kinder, more humane solution.

That didn’t stop Hope from finally, _finally_ , walking forwards from under the safety of her parents’ presence to address Strange, though.

“What do you want?”

It was simple, she thought, but said with enough venom that he would know she wasn’t messing around.

Of course. she then had to try her best to keep her face blank, to not betray any of the _surprise_ she felt when his cloak _moved_ , flowing and draping in some form of a crude attempt to tap Strange on the arm.

Evidently it was a normal occurrence for him, however, because he just swatted at the fabric and muttered an exasperated “ _I_ _know_ ” under his breath before continuing, staring Hope straight in the eyes as he spoke.

“Okay, so this won’t make much sense, but you don’t have much of a choice here but to _believe_ me, alright?

“You’re not speaking to the real me right now – I’m currently astral projecting to you and _thousands_ of other people right now, and, okay, I don’t have much _time_.

“All you need to know is that you were right, Hope. Those spaceships in New York – they belonged to a genocidal maniac whose sole intent is to wipe out half of the universe. Which he managed to do, by the way, five years ago. That’s why you turned to _dust_. And right now we really need your help in defeating him, or else he’ll _do it again_.”

His tone was imploring enough, but Hope would have loved nothing more than to _not_ believe the walking Party City advertisement, because, _god_ , he was talking about astral projection and spacecraft as though they were _normal_ , and because he clearly expected his explanation to be enough for Hope, enough for her to drop everything and follow him through a magic glowing orange doorway and out into the unknown.

And if there was anything that Scott’s (albeit terrible) videogame playing had taught her, alongside years of intuition building, it was that you _don’t_ _follow_ _strangers into mysterious voids without knowing what you’re going in for_.

But Hope also knew that just this morning – or rather, five years ago, apparently – she had disappeared from existence, and if that wasn’t enough to drive the world into her perspective then she didn’t know what was. At least she now knew _why_ it had happened.

She was _trying_ to weigh out her options, to summarise the situation at hand, but it was pretty hard to do so now that the storm had _finally_ broken and raindrops were slowly, _steadily_ smacking down onto the concrete and pooling down her neck.

Strange looked at her again, his head cocked to one side and his hair blowing about slightly in the winds that had managed to strum away at his cloak, lifting it up until there was nothing but scarlet patchwork flowing out around him.

“You know,” he began, almost as an afterthought, “I’m pretty sure Scott needs your help.”

 _Bullseye_.

 _That_ had been enough to make Hope’s head to snap up fully.

“Scott’s there?”

Strange’s nod was all the confirmation she needed.

All of a sudden there was nowhere else in the world that Hope would have rather been, because Scott was _alive_ and he was fighting and _oh god_ she was supposed to be his _partner_ , there side by side with him because _that’s how they worked best_.

Hope found herself resizing the miniaturised suit she had stored in her pocket and frantically pulling it on over the t shirt and leggings that she was already wearing, flinging her coat at Hank and grasping her mom’s hands before walking over to Strange.

She ignored the protests of “ _Hope, what are you doing?_ ” from her dad, pushing them away with a simple “ _it’s Scott. I’ve got to go_ ” that at least Janet seemed to be able to understand. She was watching and smiling sadly at her daughter, all grown up and going off to save the world.

It was with renewed vigour and _hope_ that Hope charged at the portal, adrenaline rushing through her veins as she shrunk down and flew out onto an ashen battlefield where the skies were filled with _more_ glowing gateways, and it was enough to make Hope realise the scale of what she was about to participate in.

But she wasn’t going to turn back. There was no way. She was born to be the Wasp, and this – this was just a new fight for her, a new opportunity to for her to right the world. Except that this time she knew that what she would be doing would have a little more of an _impact_ , per se, and if that meant blasting alien demon dogs into oblivion, then so be it.

She was just glad that Scott was _okay_ – the first thing she did upon landing on the battlefield was _look_   _around for him_ , dammit – and that they could fight _together_ as the very picture of teamwork and mutual respect and, oh, who was she kidding, _love_. Hope had fallen for him, _hard_ , and she hadn’t even been near him when she’d realised it.

She didn’t know if it was terrifying or exhilarating, but either way, she was sure as hell going to use the new surge of emotions to her advantage and, _there_ , she was living life and destroying _so_ _many_ aliens, all while her boyfriend grinned over at her like they _weren’t_ in the middle of a battlefield in upstate New York, because apparently this was just the casual sort of life that they lived now.

They were both fighting for their lives, really, and trying to stop the _end of the world_ , but the Ant-Man and the Wasp were back together again and Hope had never been so relieved.


End file.
